Artowen slashed with all his might. The force of the blow sent the soldiers flying away. Mav had already disappeared, but that was none of his concern now. There were far too many enemies to go for killing blows. All he could do was prevent himself from being swallowed up.
“Nephew, to me!” Aunt Idwyn called over the press.
Royce was knocking over the torches, laying fire to the ground. Though his own fire would disappear a mere instant after he released it, the fire of the torches was true to the world, and he was obviously bent on wreaking havoc. Emerii was next to him, defending so he could continue.
Their eyes met, wordless comments and declarations passing between the three in that moment. He turned his back on them. Those two would be fine, surely.
Artowen barreled through the Citizen forces, narrowly dodging death or capture at every step. His neck seared with heat, the cold sweat mixing with the streaming sweat of exertion as he followed his aunt.
Leveled spears met the Truthsayer at a makeshift barricade. Without missing a beat, she launched herself back toward Artowen, who caught her in his arms. The way she tightened her grip around his neck gave him everything he needed to know.
He charged forward, threatening impalement. At the last possible moment, he shifted his weight and poured the putrid sensation into his legs, every last ounce of his deity. Then he pushed himself off the ground in a soaring jump that cleared the soldiers and the barricade, crashing into the barren trees. He could not right himself before Aunt Idwyn pulled him along.
Artowen’s joints ached from the feat of athletics, but he had to carry on. The beat of rushing feet came from behind as their pursuers sought their prey.
Night had gulped the golden apple down long ago, and no moon graced them. Running for an uncertain amount of time, they had left the fires of their foes behind. Being able to see only with night-adjusted eyes left them blind. If not for the skill of the Truthsayer tugging Artowen along, all would be lost.
No doubt the Citizens still followed, planning to shed blood for some plot that he was not fully privy to. His aunt seemed to have an idea, and Royce had made some claims to him, a plan to continue to seek an alliance despite the situation. Meeting the leaders of the Kingdom may give him a better grasp on what was occurring, and now that Royce was not around, he would have to implement the plan himself. Hopefully, it did not conflict with his aunt’s machinations.
A presence.
To their right. Artowen still held his sword, sweat slicked as it was. He allowed them to draw closer. Closer. Suddenly Artowen reached with his left hand, grabbing the loose collar of the figure and slamming them against a tree. He then brought his sword to the throat of the dark skinned figure.
“Wait!” Mav cried.
“Oh! I couldn’t tell you apart in the night. My apologies, friend.”
‘No, it’s okay. I snuck up on you, but it did hurt.”
“You could do with a little pain. You ran again, though it would have done little for you to stay.”
Aunt Idwyn continued moving forward as she said, “You should be thanking him, Artowen, it is his eyes for trails and gaps in enemies that allowed for escape. He blazed our path; we merely followed.”
“Then thank you, Mav, and further apologies for the rough treatment, my friend.” The people his aunt collected were always skilled. Artowen knew that despite the night obscuring his features, he was displaying a bright smile.
Mav stood awkwardly as he rubbed his head. “I don’t see the other two.”
“They will be fine. You have my word.” From the guilt in his new friend’s voice, he knew he had found a good man, no matter what kind of baggage he carried. This connection to him made his smile grow even larger.
“Not like there would have been much you could do, Mav,” Aunt Idwyn said. “Also, dear nephew, if you would cease your creepy grinning. In the night, it makes you look like a blood thirsty monster, not a friendly human.”
He stifled a laugh. It would do no good to squander his friends’ bravery by drawing attention to them.
She sighed at the buffoonery. “How many days from Rynswater Mav?”
The man looked to the black sky, but there was no way of deciphering anything. “Still five days, we have not gone far from where I last checked. It will be rough travel, though.”
“Avoid the roads, avoid being spotted. You will lead us, Mav, especially on this night in unfamiliar territory. I need your skill.”
The laid-back posture of the silhouetted Mav straightened, and without another word, he surged forward.
Artowen had complete trust in his companions, in himself. They would meet in the capital, where Artowen would be recognized as the Promised One and troops pledged to the cause of unification and defeat of the Uxsons. He could feel their hopes too, on his back.
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Royce heaved as he pulled himself up. Then, immediately after, he tumbled down the hill in a mess of upturned snow and metal. World disoriented, two hands firmly grasped his shoulders and lifted him to his feet.
“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything,” Emerii said.
“And you’re lucky you weren’t impaled in that melee back there. You should have left me and gone with Arty. They’ll probably need your help.”
“Nope. In those situations, I have to stick close; otherwise, you’re liable to drop dead.”
The jab soured his features. “Those kinds of battles don’t play into my skills. Actually, I’m downright a liability.”
She shook her head. “No, your bag of tricks was really helpful, and spreading the fire was a great idea that allowed our escape in the end. If you didn’t target their food, we would have been done for.”
“If only external touch elements could do that with their own power, I doubt the Dradris Kingdoms would be having nearly as hard a time with the Uxsons.”
She slapped him on the back, which hurt, but also jolted him awake. The two of them were a mess of slicked blood and dented armor. They were not the true targets of this assault, and as such, that had allowed them to pull away. If not, there was no doubt that they would have fallen to an enemy spear or rapier.
Emerii began unclasping some of her armor, and Royce followed suit. Speed was more important now; besides, they were tired from the battle and lugging it around. They left enough to offer some protection, then began moving.
“Any idea where we are?” Royce asked.
“No clue,” She answered curtly.
“Any idea where we are going?”
“No clue.”
There was no path before them, only sparse forest on jagged, uneven ground, painted in a light speckling of snow. Still, the duo walked forward. Their pursuers would be on their trail, which was not an issue. The more space they could create for Arty to move, the better. They only had to make sure they drew the attention of the Citizens properly.
“We’re on about an even field,” Royce said.
“In unknown terrain, in the night, surrounded and outnumbered, faced against an ability that can somehow detect our presence. They seem to hold the advantage,” Emerii countered. “Contrary to your minor display of confidence, I fear we are far exceeded by them.”
He could feel the tight grin on his face. “Has the sharpening of your skills dulled your mind, Emerii? They are the ones out of their depth here. This is Bardoo, not their own land. They may be slightly more familiar with it than we are, but it should not hold a significant advantage. As for deity usage, yours is perfect for evading them, superior to however they are finding our general location, as it appears to not be able to pinpoint us.”
“I’m missing your point. All we can do is run.”
“I know it has been some time, but I would not think that you would forget our favorite game. Even when Arty left us, it occupied our time. Proper training, even if the adults thought it frivolous.”
A blank stare. Then realization became prevalent on her face.
“Escaping our betters, or each other. Antagonizing the hunter, then fleeing into the city with someone hot on our trail. This situation is similar to that. We have more than one duty now; we have to do more than escape.”
“Draw even more attention, help Arty make it to Rynswater.” Emerii gritted her teeth in a bitter smile. “We will have to evade capture. More than death, it would be a problem if they used us to get to Arty.”
“It will be like our time in Liofeld.”
“Oh, please, that was always you and Arty. I just got dragged into your shenanigans.”
He let out a quiet chuckle. That was to relieve his nerves. His fire: nearly useless. His sword skills: subpar. His strength: weaker than average. There was only one thing he could use. My mind. I’ll use the only thing I have. I have to think, keep thinking. So we can make it to the future.
Emerii stopped and gave a slight nod in the direction behind them.
So it would begin, this dangerous game of rogues and hunters, where they would antagonize and be chased. Unfortunately for the Citizens, they would be it. Royce had a lot of experience running after all.
The crossbow bolt sank into the Citizen’s chest, the death instant. As the man fell, he released his rapier that was but a moment away from claiming Royce’s life. On the ground, he threw his head back with a sigh. Sweat streamed down his face as he took deep breaths.
Not far away, the sounds of battle had concluded, but he was not worried for Emerii. He needed a moment of rest. The sun shone down on him, marking an unusually warm and bright winter morning.
The past few days had been tumultuous. Carving a path of chaos across the Bardoo countryside, the duo had done what they could to draw the attention of the Citizen soldiers. This swath of land was fully under the control of the Territories. They had not seen any Bardoo soldiers, and other Drajin were sparse. It was apparent that many villages were forced to evacuate, though the villagers who stayed had graciously been spared and were living under the soldiers’ occupation.
That made villages a hazard for them, forcing a continual trek into the woods and mountains. This region was particularly rocky, and with the snow, it created a hazard. That was useful for their continual ambushes, but slowly they were being corralled.
There had not been any more Uxsons. Otherwise, Royce and Emerii could have tried to run the two forces into each other.
Royce lifted himself up, slinging his crossbow behind his back. From the woods, Emerii approached, her blade slicked with blood.
“We can’t keep this up,” She said through harried breaths. “Trained soldiers, far outnumbering us. The ones I was battling retreated down the mountain to reposition. They know they are cornering us, despite their unfamiliarity with the area.”
“More acclimated than us,” He said with a hint of a laugh.
As though planned by fate, after that comment, a horn blared announcing a march. They already knew they would not be able to slip through the blockade. Their only choice was to continue further up the rocky mountain.
Ascending to the heavens, as it were.
They had no energy for their usual banter; their only hopes were that Arty had made it and that they could somehow survive. Even if their chosen friend escaped, no help would be arriving, not soon enough to make a difference.
They reached the jagged peak, barren and exposed to the sun. Nowhere to hide, their options were limited. Turning back and slipping through the press of bodies was impossible; only death or capture awaited at the end of that choice. So what could they do?
Royce peered down the rocky cliff, the near sheer drop that had smatterings of snow that may or may not provide enough cushioning. No path, fall after fall, prayer after prayer. In the far distance, a river ran through the land, bits of ice flowing on a passage to some unknown land.
He shivered.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Emerii said.
Royce sighed as he put his hands together, hoping to God that all would work out in the end. In the midst of his thought, Emerii pulled him from the crest of the mountain, a fateful plunge that Royce regretted immediately as they plummeted.
